


A Clown in a Tub

by mrgoldsdearie



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blood, Dead Body, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21564682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrgoldsdearie/pseuds/mrgoldsdearie
Summary: After killing Randall, Arthur needs to clean himself again for his guest appearance on The Murray Franklin Show. However, his time in the tub turns into self-satisfaction.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 75





	A Clown in a Tub

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again Arthur|Joker fandom. It's just Dearie again to drop off some more smut. *slams fic on the desk* If you enjoy could you please, like, comment, or reblog the fic. It would be greatly appreciated. Anyways…. Happy reading!

Face painted in white clown makeup and covered in the blood of his former coworker, Arthur Fleck locks the door to his apartment after allowing Gaggy — the only person who was ever nice to Arthur— out of the apartment with nothing but a bloody kiss to the top of his bald head. 

Arthur then turns to Randall’s lifeless body and bends over him. He dug a finger into the deadman’s fat and pulls it away, giggling as he watched the belly jiggle. 

“You were always an asshole, weren’t you, Randall,” he says after his amused chuckle subsided and tips his head slightly to the right. “Now you’re nothing more than just a stain on my hardwood floor… _Lucky you!”_

He abruptly stood up and spun around in the living room with his hands joyously in the air. He then starts to dance, bloody feet leaving a print with every step. 

“Thanks for coming to the celebration of my mother’s death. You really made it a blast, Randall.” 

He goes back to the body and pulls the scissors out of the eye, blood gushing out, spraying on his face as he did so. He cleans it by wiping it over his sweat pants and finally realized how much of a mess he has made of himself. He was going to be on The Murray Franklin Show tonight and he definitely can't go on looking like he works at a slaughterhouse. 

He stabbed the scissors into Randall’s thick right thigh, he didn’t need them anyway. “Keep an eye on those for me,” he says, stepping over the body and walks into the bathroom. 

In the bathroom, Arthur stands over the sink looking at himself in the mirror and he combed his fingers through his freshly dyed hair. He slowly swayed his hips, the emerald curls slipped easily through his hands, dancing to the music in his soul. 

“You’ve made a bit of a mess of yourself, Arthur,” he says to himself, still dancing in the mirror. 

“Yeah, I know,” he answered back. 

“It looks good on you.”

“I know that too, but I can’t go to the show looking like this.” 

Arthur then turned to the tub and started a warm bath. While the water ran, he takes off his sweatpants and then his underwear. He checks to make sure that the temperature is the way he liked it, then takes out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of the pants before tossing the bloodstained pants to the floor. He lights a cigarette, blowing out a smooth puff of soothing menthol smoke, and stepped into the tub. 

After bathing himself, washing away the blood and face paint, Arthur sits in the water with his back against the porcelain, feeling remarkably calm, which wasn’t a luxury he’s accustomed to. A huge weight was lifted from him the moment he sliced open Randall’s neck with the scissors and bashed his thick skull into the wall over and over and over again. _Satisfying_. It was beautiful the way the blood splattered out of the neck like a waterfall of rubies. He’ll never forget the image. 

He takes another drag from the cigarette and slowly blows out the smoke as he lifts his right leg to hang over the brim on the tub. 

His mind starts to wander, going to a place he wasn’t expecting after redeeming himself with Randall. He’s feeling freer than he thought. 

He switches the cigarette to his left hand and dips his right under the water to wrap around his flaccid cock. 

Arthur slowly strokes himself, thinking about the warm blood that stained his cheek and the wall violently getting painted crimson. There was nothing else like it. Nothing like the feeling of rubbing one out after creating such chaotic beauty. 

“Ughn,” Arthur grunted softly, hot blood coursing through his veins, and put the cigarette out by scraping it across the pink tile wall. With his left hand now freed, Arthur fills it with his swollen balls and his cock begins to harden to full erection. 

He massages himself, even circling fingertips over his perineum, adding a bit of pressure to stimulate his prostate from the outside. His right hand stroked his cock firmly, precum began to leak into the water. 

Arthur normally isn’t much for moaning when he touched himself. His mother was always in the apartment, so he was used to being quiet. Now that she was out of his life permanently, Arthur didn't have to hold back anything anymore. Not with pleasuring himself. Not with life. Not with violence, or hatred, or sanity. _Nothing!_

"Oh, fuck," he moaned out loud, finding the perfect spot against his perineum. He pressed a little harder and lifted his other leg over the side of the tub. He slouched down further into the water, spreading his legs open for a little penetration. 

He brought his left hand out of the water and held onto the edge of the tub to anchor himself. His right hand slid down between his thighs and brushed gently around his tight little hole, arousing the delicate nerve endings. With his lube tucked away somewhere in the bedroom, the bathwater will help with some of the discomforts, though he wouldn't be fingering himself if he didn't want a little pain to spill over to. 

Breathing heavily, body slightly shaking from the gentle touch of fingers around his pulsing hole, Arthur slowly pushed the middle finger inside himself, walls fluttering as the muscles stretched around the thick digit. 

Arthur chuckled with a soft moan as he entered himself, moving the finger to the rhythm of his rolling hips, water splashing onto the floor. He slid his finger in and out, faster, harder, with each draw of his hand. His body quivered uncontrollably as he penetrated deep enough to brush the tip of his finger over his prostate, his sweet spot. 

He teased himself, finger hitting the same place over and over, thick cock throbbing hands-free underwater. 

"Ah… Hahaha, oh f-fuck!" He cried out, tears of self-indulgence misting in his eyes. He slid in a second finger, hammering them inside, face burning red as he finger fucked himself. 

He suddenly pulled out, so close to his release that his cock ached painfully for more attention. Arthur sat up and put his legs back into the tub and stood upon his knees. He vigorously pumped his right hand around his girth, leaking clear fluid into the bathwater. 

Arthur moaned and cried out with a mix of manic laughter as he takes notice of blood seeping into the bathroom through the crack under the door. 

Yes. Randall’s body was still draining out in the hall and Arthur didn't care. All he cared about at this moment was reaching the climax and he was almost there. No amount of blood inching closer to the tub wasn’t going to stop him. He has earned this; the right to be free and himself, to release his sexual frustrations in any way he deemed fit for him. And if that meant masturbating in the tub with blood on the floor, then he was going to be immensely satisfied. 

He groaned as he held himself up in the tub with his left hand holding on to the edge, keeping him from doubling over. His body vibrated as his orgasm coiled up from deep within his core. His hand stroked faster, giving the wet tip of the head of his cock the most attention.

It wasn't much longer before Arthur's body stiffened, his balls also tightened, as his flesh flashes a warm shade of pink. He tried to hold back, not wanting it to end, but he was overwhelmed with ecstasy. A familiar heat throbbed at the base of his shaft, flooding over his enter body, as he finally came, squirting out a thick, creamy, stream of cum onto the wall of the tub. His fresh load oozed down the wall and into the water. 

Arthur sunk down into the tub, breathing heavily as though his breath would never catch up. His heart raced with the waves of his relief still surging through him. He sits in a tub of cooling water, watching the pool of blood on the floor spread, and he basked in the high of the afterglow. 

Moments later, Arthur's legs are strong enough to hold the weight of his thin body again, and he stands up and gets out of the tub. He dries off his dripping wet body before wrapping a towel around his waist. 

With a cock that's still twitching from the one hand show, Arthur is careful to walk around the blood. He goes out into the living room to prepare himself for the show again, laughing as he passed the dead body on his way. 


End file.
